


Exodus 12:30

by CaptainLordAuditor



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Gen, HIV/AIDS Crisis, Holocaust, Jewish Character, Jewish Crowley (Good Omens), Jewish Good Omens (Good Omens), Pre-Canon: Good Omens, Queer Guardian Angel Aziraphale (Good Omens), demons can't say angels' names but crowley does anyway, shoah discussion, the apple was not an apple it was a POMEGRANATE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 10:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19904305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLordAuditor/pseuds/CaptainLordAuditor
Summary: In 1986, Crowley has a conversation with Death. Or one of them, at least.





	Exodus 12:30

In a waiting room in a hospital there were two man shaped beings.

They had been sitting there for several hours. They were not waiting for anything in particular. One of them leaned against the other, who had at some point been reading from a copy of Les Miserables in the original French. They were now both asleep, and the one not reading had been asleep for some time.

This was by now a familiar position. They did it every week, twice a week if Crowley could convince Aziraphale. He generally couldn’t; Aziraphale generally spent 24 hours a day, six days a week being as active as he could in his duties. It had taken Crowley months to convince Aziraphale to come away from them once a week, and even then he had only agreed if they could stay here instead of actually relaxing.

To Crowley, who had spent centuries desperately trying and failing to keep the mortals _he_ cared about safe, this seemed pointless and borderline unhealthy. He had found since the Spanish Inquisition that it helped a great deal to occasionally get very, very drunk and completely forget about the world around you. The sages had really been onto something with Purim.

They didn’t do anything but sit. That was why it was a _break_. If any of the hospital staff had noticed (they all had), they didn’t mention it. The hospital staff had also noticed that when Aziraphale and Crowley were there, everything seemed to run a bit smoother, and everyone seemed a bit calmer. They knew it was irrational, though Aziraphale would have used a different word, but that was the truth.

EZRAPHA’EL. I SHOULD HAVE EXPECTED YOU HERE.

Crowley, who had really only been half asleep, opened one of his eyes. To his left was Aziraphale, as they had sat down that morning. To his right sat a woman in a black trenchcoat, with dark hair and startlingly blue eyes.

Several of them.

“What’re you doing here?”

Four eyes on her face and neck rolled at him. The ones on the sleeve of her coat continued to look at Crowley. I SHOULD THINK THAT WAS OBVIOUS.

“I didn’t know you still did this - I mean. That was _our_ job, wasn’t it, mine and Azrael’s?” The word _Azrael_ burned his mouth. “Or it was supposed to be. Haven’t seen you up here since Egypt.” He pulled himself upright and into his own seat. He had been slumping, falling out of his chair as he endeavored to keep Aziraphale from getting up. “Should I have painted blood over the door to keep you out?”

THAT SHOULD DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD, I WOULD THINK, the Archangel of Death told him. AZRAEL AND THE OTHERS HAVE BEEN KEPT BUSY. I WAS LAST HERE FOR THE BLACK DEATH. THINGS HAVE BEEN GOING MORE QUICKLY THAN EXPECTED. Strictly speaking, this was not true. Death still came up for important executions, and to keep her hand in it. She had been very kind to Alan Turing. She also came up occasionally for what could only really be described as fun. Wakes were very enjoyable, as were metal concerts with Lilith.

“ _More quickly than expected_? So this is all - this is all _intended_ , it wasn’t some giant accident?” Crowley was biting back his anger. He liked to goad people into saying the bad things themselves, but with her he got little satisfaction from it. Now it was mostly habit.

OF COURSE. EZRAPHA’EL WOULD HAVE BEEN ABLE TO STOP IT IF IT WERE AN ACCIDENT. THOUGH IT IS PERHAPS WORSE THAN INTENDED. She had a way of making blunt truth sound gentle. IT WON’T MATTER MUCH, ANYWAY.

“Won’t matter much - you absolute bastards, of course it matters!” Crowley was half hissing. “They’re _dying_ , and the ones that aren’t are using it as an excuse to take everything out on the ones who are - what will it be like, in fifty years? In twenty, there won’t be any of us - of _them_ \- _left_. Everything they’ve built, gone, for - for Her blessed _Plan_! You can’t rebuild a people from scratch, Samael!” He did not notice the burn of an angel’s true name on his tongue. “Even She can’t! There are better ways of testing than destruction!”

Samael turned her head to look at Crowley. Her six eyes looked sad. I AM SORRY FOR WHAT HAPPENED FORTY YEARS AGO. IF IT IS ANY COMFORT, FIFTY YEARS FROM NOW, IT WILL MATTER VERY LITTLE.

Crowley swallowed. “This isn’t about what happened forty years ago. This is about what’s happening _now_.”

I HAVE NO ANSWERS FOR YOU, CROWLEY. I HAVE ONLY MY DUTY, AS YOU HAVE YOURS.

“You said you were expecting it. That you were expecting-”

MANY DEATHS. EVEN I DO NOT HAVE THE DETAILS OF THE PLAN. She hesitated. HAD I KNOWN IT WOULD COME SO CLOSE TO EZRAPHA’EL’S ASSIGNMENT, I WOULD HAVE ASKED LILITH TO PASS ON A WARNING.

“Oh, for Satan’s sake. A warning wouldn’t have done them any good, now. You should’ve given it last time.”

WE DID, she replied sadly. EITHER THE MORTALS CHOSE NOT TO HEED THEM, OR THEY DIDN’T CARE.

She was right, he knew; he remembered the ships that got sent back, the information that was sat on. He had managed to stop it, sometimes. There were probably a few hundred who had survived because of him, though he wished they’d lived by some other force. He wasn’t supposed to be good, wasn’t supposed to be saving people. Even in that brief moment between his creation and his fall he’d been told to work for Samael, accuser and destroyer. “Six million, Samael,” he said. His mouth would be charred by the end of this. “A third of all of us.”

I KNOW. I READ THE NAMES OF EVERY ONE.

“And you stayed. You stayed Upstairs, despite all that, never wondering if any of it was right.”

MOST OF IT WAS NOT HER. IT WAS HUMAN CRUELTY, NOT DIVINE WILL. MOST OF _THIS_ IS HUMAN CRUELTY. This was the reason Samael spent most of her time in Sheol or Heaven; watching humans create more work for her was not a pleasant experience. SHE GAVE THEM FREE WILL AND THIS IS HOW THEY HAVE CHOSEN TO USE IT.

Six thousand years ago, Crowley taught a woman how to break open a pomegranate and eat the seeds inside. Six hundred and thirteen, one seed for each will of G@d she might choose to follow or disobey. At the time, he had wondered if he had done the right thing. Now it was 1986 by the human calendar, and he felt firmly that it had been wrong. “Maybe She shouldn’t have.”

I DO NOT QUESTION THE ALMIGHTY, GADEREL; THAT IS WHAT YOU ARE FOR. She stood and turned to go. GIVE EZRAPHA’EL MY CONDOLENCES. I HOPE THEIR MEMORIES ARE BLESSINGS TO HIM.

Samael, Angel of Death, who three thousand years ago had slain the firstborn of the Pharoah of Egypt, walked down the hall to do her duty in the attribute of mercy. Crowley watched her go and remembered what it had been like to see the stars reflected in her coat from Heaven.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Exodus 12:30 [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032084) by [blackglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackglass/pseuds/blackglass)




End file.
